


For Whom the Jar Breaks

by ElloMenoP



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Crossfaction, M/M, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-28 14:50:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2736572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElloMenoP/pseuds/ElloMenoP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr request. Scout unknowingly has a kink for watersports and ends up seeking out the enemy Sniper to explore it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Spy was fuming as he walked back to their side of the battlements, fuming and dripping wet. The humiliation round should have been his time to do the humiliating, they were the winners not that disgusting BLU Sniper. Yet he was the one walking back in defeat, his head and shoulders covered in urine and his pride shattered. 

“Hey Spy, looks like we got another- _phew_!” Engie wrinkled his nose and retracted his hand just before it made contact with Spy’s soiled suit. “That Sniper get you again?”

The Texan laughed at Spy’s scowl while Spy grumbled, “Filthy…unhygienic bushman…I will cut him!” He shook his hands outward from his body splashing any surrounding team mates with little droplets of urine.

“Oi watch it, fancy pants!” Demoman sloshed his bottle of Scrumpy at Spy in revenge. 

Heavy roared and wrinkled his nose, growled at Spy and took three steps back. Engineer quickly un-pocketed his handkerchief and blotted at a droplet that landed on his overalls. “Ewgh, Spy!”

Scout got hit with three droplets, two on his cheek and one on his shoulder. They felt like acid burning through his skin leaving smoldering holes behind, it heated him down to his bones in some form of displeasure that was closer to jealousy than anger. He quickly squashed that thought and wiped away the droplets with his hand wrappings. “I don’t see what your problem is Spy, ain’t that your brand of cologne!” He quipped, and the room erupted with laughter. 

—-

“What the bloody hell are you doin’ lad?” Demoman bellowed at him after detonating a pile of stickies around a sentry.

Scout was only able to shrug his shoulders and smile sheepishly. If he had any basic knowledge of psychology he would have realized he was unconsciously searching for the BLU Sniper. He had been forgoing his offensive duties in favor of running around the map checking every hiding place the man could be. He even began to stand completely still as bait for the marksman, though he only attracted the enemy Spy and sentry bullet fire. 

He had just freshly respawned when he saw Spy trudging back to the spawn room soaked in urine. He had a scowl on his face as he spat a drenched cigarette out of his mouth, he looked livid. As always Scout’s mouth was faster than his brain, he whined, “Aw, no fair.”

The expression on Spy’s face could have either been disgust or utter confusion. Scout recovered by saying, “Cause I should be the only one to humiliate you like that.” 

The Frenchman ignored him and entered the spawn room, rummaged through the supply locker to reload his revolver and grab another pack of cigarettes, his were soggy. Scout followed him, flittering behind him and working up to becoming a real pest. “What is it Scout?” Spy snarled.

The boy laughed oddly, “That Sniper’s really screwing with you today huh?”

Spy’s response was a deadly glare.

“I could take care’a him,” he offered. “If you want.”

“Why don’t you do your job and actually cap a point today,” he hissed, and popped a fresh cigarette into his mouth. He took one inhale and disguised in a puff of smoke as the enemy Spy.

Scout fumbled for words, his mouth moved open and shut trying to explain without really understanding himself. “It’s just…Soldier’s got it, he’s really uh, focused today.”

Coincidentally Soldier respawed just then. He stood there completely immobile until something like switch flipped on and he took off like a rocket, banging his shovel on his helmet and crying out, “Forward men!”

“See?” Scout proved his point.

Spy tutted and blew smoke in his face, but answered, “I last saw him along the East side of the map.” Then he cloaked and disappeared from the room. For some reason that information made Scout’s heart pound. He ignored it, grabbed a can of BONK! and ran out into the fray. Miraculously, he dodged rockets and bullets, avoided a charging Demoman and even popped a kill off on a Pyro on his way toward the East side.

He was having trouble finding out exactly where the BLU Sniper was, there was a water tower, a shack high up above the map, and a little alcove cut into a rocky ledge. The Sniper could be in any one of them. Scout licked his lips and thought hard. “Hey Pyro! C’mere a second!” 

“Mmph?” The Pyro stopped torching a body and jogged over to Scout. 

“Yeah, come here,” Scout motioned the masked mercenary forward. “Can you do me a huge favor for a second?” He carefully positioned Pyro out in the open and himself behind a tall boulder. “Yeah, just stand there like that for a second.”

Pyro was confused and annoyed, he was about to communicate that to his team mate but a high caliber bullet dropped him to the ground.

“Perfect Py, thanks!” Scout smiled and inspected the angle of the bullet wound from the safety of his boulder shield. “Shack it is,” he said to himself.

He should have been helping Soldier and Pyro in an offensive strike. He should have equipped himself with his shotgun or pistol, not his aluminum bat, and he shouldn’t have loudly crushed his empty BONK! can, alerting the Sniper to his presence. 

Scout charged into the shack swinging his bat, with the two so close the BLU Sniper couldn’t counter with his rifle. Instead he used it to block Scout’s swings, each time their weapons met the bat would connect with the rifle scope making a loud metallic clang in the small shack. Sniper growled, the little mutant was going to crack his scope. In an effort to save his prized gun Sniper grabbed Scout’s wrist, the one holding tight to the bat handle.

He squeezed hard until the boy cried out and dropped his weapon, he expected to have an easy kill after that, he reached to his hip for his Kukri, but was head-butted before he could grasp the handle. They struggled in the small space, Scout diving into the Sniper and pulling out his pistol, though it quickly fell from his hand as Sniper knocked the both of them to the ground.

The gun slid across the floor, the stacks of crates surrounding them tumbled over and all the items on top of them fell off. A glass coffee pot shattered and its contents splattered everywhere, a number of glass jars smashed as well, though their contents puddled together and slowly spilled outward toward the two.

Sniper had finally pinned the Scout down, the sharp edge of his Kukri at his throat, and his other hand shoving the Scout’s face into the wooden floor. The puddle of urine from the jars was slowly inching toward him, Scout could smell the foul liquid and he licked his lips instead of wrinkling his nose.

The ever observant Sniper saw this seemingly insignificant action and surmised what it meant. He could have made a snide comment, could have smirked and called the Scout out on his perversion, but he was not a man of words. He preferred actions every chance he got, so he dragged the runner upwards and toward the puddle of urine and dropped him into it. 

“Auughh sick!” The urine seeped into Scout’s hair, covered him from his neck down to his shoulder blades and would have soaked him further had he not sat up. His palms hit the wet wood and he grimaced, but his heartbeat quickened in anticipation.

The was the familiar click of a gun being cocked, and then a thump as the Sniper stomped his foot onto Scout’s chest. “Lie back down,” he ground out.

Scout grit his teeth, the nerve of this guy to use his own gun on him! “Fuck y-”

A shot reverberated in the shack, but Scout only heard it fill his ears and bounce off his bones. Sniper put a bullet six inches from his head. “You better do as I say, cause I’m not so good at aiming these _little guns_ ,” he warned.

Scout glared at the man, waited for the ringing in his ears to die down, but he did what he was told. He laid back down in the cold puddle of urine, he fought the thrill that drenched his back, told himself he hated the Sniper for humiliating him like this.

Then he snapped, “The fuck’s wrong with you, you sick bastard! Why don’t ya just kill me!”

The marksman scoffed, pulled an overturned crate over and made himself comfortable, keeping Scout’s pistol aimed at the runner the whole time. 

“Sure I could kill ya, as a matter of fact you just say the word and I’ll blow your brains out.” He paused. “But I don’t think you came up here for that. I think you came up here cause getting covered in piss turns you on.”

“The fuck do you know!” Scout yelled back, sitting up from the puddle to look the marksman in the eyes, followed their gaze to his own crotch.

“I got an eye for this sort of thing,” Sniper told him.

“What? Lookin’ at other guys’ dicks?” He shot back.

“Easy targets,” Sniper corrected, and Scout lowered his eyes at that comment. “Now like I said, you just say the word, I’ll put a bullet between your eyes you’ll respawn in a fresh set of clothes and you can pretend this never happened. You can lock this little encounter up for  _real_  lonely nights when you can’t lie to yourself anymore.” 

The Sniper smiled, revealing sharp, coffee stained teeth. Scout was reminded of the big, bad wolf. “Or,” he began, “you can lie back down in my piss and get off to the nasty thought of it.”

Scout was panting, and eyeing the window where the Sniper had been shooting from, outside the battle was raging on without the two of them. It was too late to say no, he had already been contemplating the offer too long to be able to feasibly deny it. He lied back down in the cold piss to the sound of Sniper chuckling.

“That’s what I thought,” he taunted. 

The puddle wasn’t that large, when Scout laid back down it only reached to his shoulder blades, but his cotton shirt was absorbing as much as it could hold. He didn’t know what to expect, didn’t know what would happen next, if Sniper was going to throw another jar at him or kill him. Either way, Scout lied himself, told himself that he didn’t have a choice, that Sniper had a gun on him and he had to comply. 

“Touch yourself,” Sniper commanded.

“What!” Scout snapped back up.

“I said ‘touch yourself,’” Sniper repeated.

Scout was going to argue, but the way the Australian was looking at him through his sunglasses, cooly, almost indifferent, made Scout’s stomach flip. His hands travelled to his belt and fly, one was wet with piss, the other dry.

Sniper stopped him, “No, don’t take ‘em off yet, do it over your trousers.” 

Scout hesitated, but eventually obeyed, he rubbed his crotch with his dry hand, the right one. He massaged and rubbed around his shaft, cupped his balls and gave way to the feeling. There was already a burning arousal in him from the second Spy hit him with those three little droplets and now it was finally manifesting in his growing erection.

“Why do you like it?” Sniper asked, not kindly or out of curiosity. He asked it because he wanted to see Scout squirm, see him get ashamed and flustered. The boy didn’t answer him, he expected that so he questioned again, this time with a kick to the boy’s leg. “Why do you like it? Why do you like being covered in another man’s piss?”

Scout stopped touching himself, craned his head forward to look at the Sniper and muttered, “Shut up.”

That got Sniper moving, for an old guy he was quick, a lot quicker than Scout expected. In a flash he was pulled up harshly by his shirt front and his pistol was shoved under his chin. “You think I’m just gonna give you what you want you’re wrong, you gotta earn it. I’ll ask one more time, why do you like it?”

Sniper dropped him and his head smacked against the wood floor, splashing some of the urine about. Scout had squeezed his eyes shut and when he opened them all he saw was Sniper’s glower. “I don’t know,” Scout muttered, and looked away. 

“Bollocks,” Sniper kicked his leg again, he aimed the pistol at Scout. “You got three seconds to tell my why.”

Scout struggled to find the reason, he didn’t quite understand it himself, didn’t even realize he liked it until Sniper said it out loud. But Sniper was counting down and he had to come up with something. “Because, because,” he stammered.

“Because why?” Sniper growled.

“Because it’s humiliating!” Scout tried.

“No shit, but  _why._ ” Sniper waved the pistol to hurry him up. “Really bloody think about it.”

“Because…because it makes me feel dirty!” He blurted out.

The admission must have been enough because the BLU Sniper smirked and sat back down on his crate. He laughed and said, “Makes you feel dirty, eh? Dirty like a girl wearing a skirt but no panties, or dirty like you’ve been crawling through a sewer?”

Scout quietly answered, “Both.”

“Yeah I fucking bet,” the Sniper laughed more, and peered out the window to make sure the others were still busy. “What else do you like about it, and be specific.”

Scout diverted his eyes and bit his lip. “I don’t know…I guess, I like how-”

Sniper interrupted, “Keep touching yourself.”

He was humiliated but he did it anyway. He brought his hand back to his crotch and started to touch himself through the fabric again. In minutes his cock was back to straining against the material and his voice was straining to answer Sniper’s questions. “I like how messed up it is,” he breathed out.

Sniper didn’t acknowledge his comment so he kept talking.

“Like, it’s on the far end of, of…” He struggled to explain it. “Even with all the crazy sex stuff out there it’s still one the sickest things you can do. It’s totally perverted.”

“It is,” Sniper agreed, though his tone was completely neutral and part of Scout wished he was a little meaner about the whole thing. He craved to hear Sniper’s insults. “Undo your belt.”

He hurried to comply, undid his belt and fly and pushed his pants down. He went to push his underpants down as well, but to his disbelief he paused and looked to Sniper first. That pleased the man and he grinned, “Go on, take ‘em off.”

He pushed his underpants down to his knees and waited for Sniper to instruct him. “Touch yourself,” he said again, but added, “and do it slowly.”

Scout wrapped his hand around his cock and began jerking off. It felt so good to have a hand around him, and it felt excitingly wrong to be doing it while in a puddle of urine. Most of the liquid was gone by now, it had dripped between the floorboards or seeped into the wood, or was already absorbed into Scout’s shirt. The liquid had been soaked into the fabric and spread out to cover his entire back and his sides.

“Slower,” Sniper barked.

Scout had been going at a steady pace and he had to gather all his restraint to slow his hand. Even when he slowed to a leisurely pace the Sniper ordered, “Slower.” And Scout had to reduce to a snail’s pace, moving his hand up and down just enough to be considered masturbation. 

“You want me to piss on you?” 

Scout’s hand finally reached his head and he moaned, “Yes.” It was supposed to be just for his ears, about his pleasure, not admitting to any sort of degrading acts. He didn’t clarify any of that though, that his ‘yes’ was only because he was touching himself not because the thought of Sniper releasing himself onto him was any sort of desire. 

The Sniper wouldn’t care either way. “What am I gonna get out of it?” 

Scout kept his mouth shut, he wouldn’t give the Sniper a damn thing. He might just bail on the whole thing, or get off, grab his gun and end their encounter. As much as he told himself that’s what he should do, Scout’s hand remained at an excruciatingly slow pace, moving up and down his shaft the way Sniper told him to. 

“You’re gonna blow me,” Sniper told the Scout. There was no room for argument in his tone. “You’re gonna do it the way I like.”

“Uh-huh,” Scout panted. He was getting so close even though his hand was doing so little.

“Just the way I like.” 

Scout didn’t respond to that, and Sniper didn’t blame him. The boy was struggling to keep himself in check and Sniper was enjoying the sight of his flushed cheeks, his leaking head, and the way his legs squirmed. Sniper licked his lips, and ordered, “Just your head.”

Scout whimpered, thought about ignoring the command, but surrendered in the end. He stopped his fist at his head, his fingers curled around his dick, his thumb running circles around his sensitive tip. He teased himself, rolled the pad of thumb over his slit again and again, he moaned with frustration but he kept doing it. There was something about having Sniper tell him what to do, controlling the situation with just his commands while he had to struggle to fulfill them.

Sniper was having trouble controlling himself as well. Watching the boy twitching and moaning in a puddle of drying urine was getting him harder than he’d like to admit. And if he wanted to appease the Scout’s dirty fantasies he’d have to do it without a stiffy, it’d be easier that way. Then afterwards he’d shove his cock down the boy’s throat. He stood up, stretching and placing the pistol down on the crate.

He walked over to the boy and stood above him, the boy between his legs in the perfect position to be pissed on. What a sight he was, with his eyes glazed over and hand on his cock, the thumb rubbing lazy circles over his head while beads of cum leaked out. “Ask for it.”

Scout hesitated and Sniper roughly nudged him in his side. “Please,” he quietly asked.

“Please what?” Scout was hesitating again, so Sniper nudged him even harder and demanded, “Say it, say the whole dirty thing!”

“Please piss on me!” Scout blurted out to his embarrassment, his hand forgoing Sniper’s earlier command and pumping himself quickly, giving in completely.

The marksman unzipped his trousers and pulled his half hard cock out, it took a little coaxing and concentration but he got a steady steam going. He aimed at the runner’s chest and watched as his urine splattered onto the boy and soaked his front. 

Scout had snapped his mouth shut to keep his moans from escaping, but as splashes of pee hit his neck, chin, and face he couldn’t keep them to himself. The liquid was warm, it was what he expected over the jars, it was better than the jars because Sniper was above him with a snide expression and an insult.

“What a nasty piece of work you are, you’re loving this ain’t you? You disgusting little wanker.”

Scout was pumping his cock too fast to answer, his words getting caught in his throat and exiting as a groans. His legs twisted, caught around his pants, while his back arched on the floor as he came. It was one of the best orgasms he ever had, his legs shaking and cock hot and pulsing as cum spurt out in jets. His spasms seemed to go on forever and he felt pleasure fill his body as warm piss covered him. 

Apparently people aren’t supposed to have any thoughts in their heads when they cum, they’re just supposed to feel the divine sensations, but Scout thought that was crap because he had humiliation on his mind. The mere thought of being degraded as he was magnified his pleasure. He felt filthy, he felt spent, he felt used, and he loved every second of it.

When he fell back to the damp floor boards he got a single glimpse of the BLU Sniper’s grinning face before the man dropped dead. Scout snapped up in fear. Standing by the entrance of the shack was his team’s Spy holding his smoking revolver and dark look in his eyes. Scout scrambled to tuck his spent cock away and explain himself. “The Sniper…he made me-”

“Get up,” Spy thundered.

“I…I-” Scout slowly got to his feet just as the enemy Sniper’s body disappeared. “It’s not like that-”

“This is what’s going to happen,” Spy fixed his eyes on Scout effectively immobilizing the boy, “you are going to walk out of this shack, go the cliff’s edge and jump off. You will respawn in clean clothes, and you will never mention this to me.”

All Scout could do was swallow nervously.

“And next time you decide to cut my cigarettes with gun powder, or replace my cologne with toilet water, or utter a single insult at me I want you to remember that I know your  _filthy little secret_.” Spy smirked broadly and Scout felt like he’d been struck by a bus. “Now go.”

Slowly, Scout exited the shack, made his way to the cliff like Spy said and followed through on the command, leaving a trail of fat, yellow droplets in his wake. 


	2. Jarring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scout makes good on his promise.

Bits of skull and blood splattered into the air upon entry, the exit wound was far messier. Scout’s brains spilled out from the large opening on the back of his head, much of it ended up on the shoulder of Medic’s pristine lab coat. The doctor frowned at the bloody mush and turned his medigun beam on a far better meat shield, muttering, “useless,” to himself.

Back in the respawn room Scout appeared, his head aching and rage flowing through his veins. He screamed with frustration and grabbed his bat, but he didn’t charge out onto the field for revenge. Instead, he rounded on the lockers lining one side of the room, swinging with all his might. He dented several lockers, Soldier’s getting the worst of it, destroying the frame and making it impossible for the door to ever be shut properly. After the anger dissipated Scout’s shoulders slumped, he was heaving for air, starting to feel regret over his actions.

“Jesus, Scout,” Engineer ran in, grabbing metal from a supply closet, “you wanna hit somethin’ hit a BLU for Pete’s sake, do your job.”

Scout was about to apologize, feeling ashamed over his childish reaction, then Spy showed up.

“Really, Scout, I know you’re pissed but do try to control yourself,” he made a show of trying to shut Soldier’s dented locker, “for all of our sakes.”

All the rage and frustration came rushing back, for a second Scout forgot about his circumstances, and he attacked Spy. The Frenchman didn’t defend himself, the only reaction he allowed was a wide smirk. Scout got one look at that and backed off instantly.

“Just shut up, you stupid frog,” he sullenly muttered and walked out.

Back in the thick of it Scout decided to follow Engineer’s orders, to do his job and do it right. He should sprint up ahead, see where the enemy moved their sentry, see if they had power classes ready to attack, see where the intel was. He did sprint ahead, but he didn’t take note of any useful information. He managed to sneak through into enemy territory, stood silently away from the carnage. 

He’d know where the BLU Sniper was shooting from since the start of the battle. He’d made it clear by targeting the Scout the way he’d been targeting him for the past week. Headshot after headshot, everywhere Scout went Sniper’s little laser dot followed. Even now the tiny dot of light was aimed for Scout’s chest.

The runner gripped his gun tightly, but it wasn’t poised to shoot. Behind him he could hear his team mates shouting and trying to regroup. The little laser dot slid down his body, to his feet, and then to the dirt in front of him. Another explosion went off and he heard his Soldier scream, “Incoming!” Scout went to pull his gun up, to get ready, but the next thing he saw were the bright, florescent lights of their respawn room. 

—

“I’m a professional, that’s why I can admit it, he’s got good aim,” Sniper claimed, and pointed his fork toward Demoman.

The Scotsman smiled smugly. “So what you’re saying, is that since you can’t hit their Scout you’ve got bad aim.”

The table erupted with laughter and agreement. Sniper’s eyes went wide and his cheeks burned. “Now wait a bloody minute, that’s not what I meant.”

“That sure took the wind right out of your sails,” Engineer chuckled.

“I’d shoot their Scout down plenty if he were as bad as ours!” Sniper pathetically defended. 

Any other night and Scout would have loved to be the center of attention, even if it were as negative as this. He could always take the criticisms, he was too confident and arrogant to believe a word they said. What he couldn’t take was Spy’s glaring. The worst wasn’t the threat of being found out, it was Spy’s disapproval. The Frenchman had always disapproved of him, but those were things he was proud of, being loud, being confident, being impulsive. Those were all things Scout could defend, things he knew were subjective. But being pissed on, and enjoying it, that was something Scout could never justify.

He pushed a bit of potatoes around his plate until it collect the last crumbs and peas from his meal, avoiding the Frenchman’s gaze. 

“Just sayin’ kid’s been standing there, might as well paint a bullseye on his forehead.”

He could still feel Spy’s eyes boring into him, he shoveled the last forkful of food into his mouth and quickly stood up. He left his empty plate but grabbed his full water glass, let the jerks clean up after him.

Demoman made a sympathetic noise, “Come on, lad, we’re just playin’.”

Scout muttered, “whatever,” and Heavy commented, “Should not be so sensitive in war.”

Deadpanned and cutting through all the murmured conversations, Spy spoke, “I don’t think Scout minds the humiliation.”

The runner glared back, but that was all he could do. He took his water and left, sealing himself behind his locked door and inadvertently trapping himself with all his thoughts. Scout had tried to do what the enemy Sniper had said, to lock up their encounter for long, lonely nights, but as it turns out, every night for the past two weeks qualified as long and lonely. Scout set his glass down on the nightstand and slid his hand down his pants.

It was infuriating for so many reasons, he didn't want to have this perversion, he didn’t want Spy to know about it, he didn’t want to think about it, and above all, he didn’t want to lose it. 

He gripped his cock through his underpants and tugged gently, slowly exciting himself, just as the BLU Sniper had ordered him to that day; but he couldn’t recall the wording. That frustrated him even as he bucked into his hand. He tried to get himself into that same headspace that Sniper had forced him into, but he couldn’t get close. 

“Please,” he whispered, trying to imagine the tall, rugged man standing in front of him, smirking down. 

All he could see was his door though. 

Even as he cock hardened Scout’s frustration did not diminish. He shoved his pants and underwear down and reached for the glass of water. He willed himself to remember it all. he held the glass high above himself and slowly tipped it forward.

‘Filthy gremlin.’  
‘Perverted mongrel.’  
‘Disgusting little pervert.’

All of them sounded right, but he knew none of them were, he couldn’t remember what Sniper called him in that moment. The water fell in an inconsistent flow, splashing onto his chest and running out far too soon. It was hard to pretend, the water was odorless, not like Sniper’s sharp pungent piss, and too cold to really believe it was anything but water. It was still enough to help him finish, shirt damp and hand flying over his cock. He jerked off fast, squeezing just right and cumming as quickly as he had started. 

The sated sensation faded almost instantly, leaving him staring at the glass he held up above him. The remaining droplets clung to the rim, slowly gathering into fat, round, beads before they fell and splashed against Scout’s damp chest. He angrily dropped the glass to the side of his bed and hurried to strip his wet shirt off. The only thing Scout could definitely recall from his encounter with the BLU Sniper was the deep sense of shame. 

—

Scout’s head was ringing, he’d already been through respawn six times and they’ve only just started the round. He had tried to steer clear of the enemy Sniper, to run fast and erratic, but no matter what he ended up with a bullet in his brain. In a moment of self pity he sat himself on one of the long wooden benches alongside the room. He was only allowed a few minutes to himself before Soldier showed up, he got one look at the boy and boiled over.

He grabbed Scout by the shoulder, yelling, “You get your ass out there, maggot!”

Scout shrugged out of the hold and muttered, “I am, I’m going.”

“Promises, promises, princess,” Soldier spat back, his disapproval more apparent than Spy’s.

Scout shrugged the comment off as well, yet he knew Soldier was right, a promise is a promise. He ran out ahead of Soldier, veered off away from the action, Soldier voiced his opinion on that, calling him a coward while he ran headlong into the enemy Demoman. He got a little enjoyment out of seeing Soldier violently beheaded. It didn’t take long to find the enemy Sniper’s nest, it was the same tiny shack that he’d been holed up in for the past few battles. 

He could see why Sniper had chosen it, it was hard to get up to. There was only a single, steep trail that gave it access, an intruder would be unmistakable. Scout was granted passage without a single shot going off. The shack was small, barely larger than a closet, and its entranceway had no door. Scout brushed his fingers along the old rusty hinges where one might have hung, he thought about turning around. Then a stinging pain ripped through his shoulder.

“Argh! Jesus fuck, it’s me!” Scout yelled and glared at the enemy Sniper. The man gave him no mind, he sat back down on his crate beside the only window, keeping his SMG in his lap, but grabbing his rifle. 

“S’just a graze,” he muttered, and took a shot.

“Coulda killed me,” Scout complained, slapping his hand over his left shoulder, blood seeped though his fingers.

“If I wanted you dead you’d already be in respawn.” 

After that it was silent aside from an occasional crack of Sniper’s rifle. Scout awkwardly looked around the shack, taking in the tiny quarters. Sniper had a small set up, a crate for him to sit on, another next to him with his ammunition, coffee, and…Scout’s face flushed and he looked away. 

“Look, I’m, uh,” Scout stumbled over his words. “I’m here ‘cause, you know…”

Sniper showed no signs of interest.

Scout frowned and let the hand over his wound curl into a fist. “I gave my word and here I am so let’s get this over with.”

Finally the Sniper reacted, his shoulders relaxed and he slowly turned around. “Took you long enough,” he grumbled, then a slow smile spread across his face, “was starting to think you were just using me.”

“It was hard to get over here, okay?” Scout lied. 

Sniper snorted, “Sure, sure, we don’t want your Spy interruptin’ us again.”

It got quiet again. Sniper leaned back on his crate, resting his back against the rough wooden wall, his fingers running over his SMG still in his lap. Scout was hesitant to walk further in. “After this we’re even though.”

“Yeah, mate, soon as I cum down your throat we’re square.” Sniper grinned at the way Scout squirmed. 

He shuffled and coughed. “Yeah, but once we’re done no more targetin' me on the field.”

The runner watched as Sniper slid his fingers down his SMG to the trigger. Then he spoke with a condescending tone, “Well, it’s my job, isn’t it,” when Scout didn’t flinch the Australian trailed his finger tips back up the barrel of he gun, “and right now you’ve got a job to do.”

Without hesitation, Scout gave in. As he took the two steps forward, the second falling to his knees, he told himself it was what he was there for, to make good on his promise. His heart raced as Sniper undid his fly and he saw that cock again, all the missing details that Scout had been trying to recall came flying back.

Sniper’s cock was long and had a surprising girth to it, something Scout hadn’t noticed while it was pissing on him. The Australian’s pubic hair was darker and thicker than what he’d imagine, and his scent wasn’t as appealing as Scout had been fantasizing about, it was layers of old sweat on unwashed skin. He got a glimpse of Sniper’s pale thighs, it felt odd to see this much of the man who so recently degraded him, he didn’t know what to do.

Scout flicked his eyes up, past where the SMG was still sitting, up Sniper’s broad chest and directly into the man’s impatient glare. He snapped his eyes back down and slowly placed a hand on either thigh. He didn’t have much experience with men, but he figured his having a cock meant he knew a thing or two about them. He parted his lips and pressed his cheek against Sniper’s thigh, gradually sliding his face closer until his nose hit the barrel of Sniper’s SMG. 

He licked his lips, licked along the cold metal and took the end of the gun into his mouth in what he thought was an enticing image. The gun was ripped from his mouth so fast it knocked painfully against his front teeth. Scout made a yelp and his hand flew to soothe pain for the second time.

“The fuck are you doing,” Sniper snarled. “You’re here to blow me, if you wanna eat a bullet go back out there.”

Scout’s hand dropped to reveal the pout on his face. “I was just tryin’ to-”

“To what?” Sniper hissed. “Set the mood? You gonna whisper sweet nothings to me before or after I cum on your face?”

Scout huffed, “Jesus, all right, I get it.”

“You’re here to suck my cock, that’s it, and you’ll do it right,” Sniper said.

Scout’s frown only ended when he opened up to take in the tip of Sniper’s cock. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but what he got was the simple taste of skin, a pleasing weight on his tongue, and a small moan out of Sniper. He was concerned over how much of his mouth was being taken up by just Sniper’s head, hoping that the man would make good on his latter promise and cum on his face rather than down his throat. 

The only indicator that Scout was doing a good job was Sniper’s hardening length. Other than that the marksman didn’t make another sound or use his hands. Scout was afraid to look up, afraid he’d see a scowl and really end up biting a bullet. The whole experience was nearly as bad as the first, now that Scout had a taste of humiliation he expected more, but Sniper seemed entirely uninterested. With the disappointment seeping in, Scout sucked harder, trying to get it done and over with.

Suddenly there were hands at his head, nearly pulling him completely off the cock on his mouth. Sniper glared down at him. “Slower.”

Scout shivered at the order, did as he was told, slowly taking the man’s length back into his mouth. Once he started sucking again Sniper’s hand left his head and he was dismayed over the loss of contact, but again Sniper rumbled, “Slower.”

He was confused, but followed the order, slowing to a pace that he’d consider teasing. 

“I said slower,” Sniper growled, and tugged on his short hair enough to make Scout whine. He went to pull off and ask Sniper if he was serious, but the man was frowning down at him and cut him off before he could speak. “The agreement was you blow me just the way I like, so quit pouting and make it good, else you’re gonna be my bullseye from now ‘till the end of this war.”

Scout nodded his agreement and slowed down even more. He thought it was ridiculous, there was no way any one could enjoy a blowjob this slow. He was barely doing anything, mostly sitting there with Sniper’s cock on his tongue and occasionally swallowing around it. Yet, he was getting more out of Sniper than ever. The man groaned and threw his head back, spread his thighs a little bit more. 

That was the pace he tried to stay at, concentrating hard on following Sniper’s demand. He was still disappointed. Over the past few weeks he had been craving Sniper’s insults, needing his rough hands on him, imagining what this moment would actually be like. He pictured more bruises, more degradation, Sniper hadn’t even mentioned the piss. He sulked, and tried his best to give Sniper what he wanted.

So slowly did Scout swallow around him, barely lapping with his tongue, it was antagonizing to get no real response out of Sniper. He wanted to do more, but every time he tried the man either growled or pulled sharply on his hair. But Scout found that if he gave it more patience, if he gradually worked from long steady sucks or laps, to shorter and shorter ones that he could get Sniper moaning. If he tongued at Sniper’s head he’d get gasps, and if he ran the tip of his tongue around the ridge he’d make him twitch. 

He was so pleased to work Sniper into a frenzy, to get him panting and struggling to keep from fucking Scout’s mouth properly. What pleased him the most was the first salty taste of Sniper’s precum, a little bead leaking out and dissolving on Scout’s tongue. Just as he moaned at the taste he was ripped off again.

“I said slow,” Sniper snarled.

Scout’s face dropped. “Wha- how the hell! There’s no way that wasn’t perfect.”

Sniper slapped him across the face. “You’ll do it proper or not at all.”

Scout huffed, but went back to the ridiculous pace. He felt like he had been sitting there with Sniper’s cock in his mouth for hours when out of nowhere, a loud and violent sound erupted in the small shack, so loud that it shook Scout’s bones. It took Scout a moment to realize what had happened, and he pulled off Sniper’s cock to stare up at him.

The marksman smirked and replied, “What, I’ve a quota to make.”

Scout was so focused on sucking the man off that he hadn’t noticed him repositioning with his rifle. His mouth hung open, feeling a mix of emotions. He felt like an utter failure if Sniper could concentrate enough to get a shot off while his was sucking his dick. At the same time, he was outraged that the Australian would kill his team mates while getting blown by him. And still yet, he felt a dangerous thrill, like he were an accessory to murder.

Sniper took another shot, chuckled a little to himself, happy to have made another kill. When Scout didn’t get back to it he tapped the butt of his rifle against the boy’s face. “If I’ve got to remind you again it’s gonna be with a headful of lead.”

Indigence struck Scout. “You can’t- you can’t kill my team while I’m sucking you off! That ain’t right!”

This time the rifle butt hit much harder, breaking the skin along Scout’s right cheekbone and inflaming the area around it. Scout scrambled back to protect himself, reaching out for any of his weapons. Sniper’s hand shot out and snatched his shirt front before he could become a real threat. 

His low rasp shook Scout more than the first rifle shot had. “Let’s not pretend you don’t like it.”

It was as unmistakable as their first encounter. Scout’s inclination clear on his face, easy for the enemy to pick up on. Sniper sat back down heavily and waited for Scout to obediently shuffled back into place, knowing he needn’t say a word. 

“Let’s just get this over with,” Scout muttered, eyes lowered and getting back into place. 

He took Sniper’s cock back into his mouth, giving it the same treatment as before, nearly nothing, yet it was everything the marksman wanted. Scout barely sucked and swallowed to a slow rhythm, occasional being broken by a jump when Sniper took another shot. His hands would always dig deeper into the Australian’s thighs when the rifle went off, but gradually he was gripping the man more because of his own arousal. 

“You would be getting off to this,” Sniper voice finally cut through the silence, sending a chill down Scout’s spine. “Bet you feel like a right whore, blowing me while I blow your mates’ brains out.”

Scout unconsciously sucked harder. 

“Does it make you feel as dirty as being pissed on?” Sniper squeezed the trigger and somewhere down below them another RED dropped dead. “I supposed not, suppose it’s a different kind of dirty.”

Scout’s breathing picked up, remembering what it was like to be defiled like that, remembering how Sniper made him feel so perverted. He wanted to pull of and tell him that, that it was beginning to feel just like before. No, Scout changed his mind, it felt better. Before Sniper marked him, and now he owned him, was using him like a toy while he killed off members of his team. Scout moaned loudly and sucked faster, his tongue finally coming into play.

Sniper chuckled, the laugh ending in a quiet groan and a buck of his hips. “Yeah, knew you’d like this, been waiting to do it, for you to get your idiot ass up here.”

Scout’s heart thumped, but he felt like a little kid with a crush. He knew Sniper only wanted his end of the deal, but to know that the man had thought about him at all made him pulse with excitement. 

“Huh, you like that?” Sniper bucked again as Scout’s tongue flicked at the underside of his head. “Like knowing that you’re up here on your knees while your team’s out there fighting like men.”

“Mmm,” Scout nodded around Sniper’s cock. He dug his fingers in deeper, spreading Sniper’s legs and granting him better access. Any worries about the size of Sniper’s dick were gone, Scout wanted all of him. He sloppily worked more and more of the man into his mouth, still sucking as best he could, feeling him twitch much like his own cock trapped beneath layers of clothes. 

“How ashamed are you?” Sniper’s rifle had ceased firing. “How ashamed have you been since it happened, since I’ve been knocking you down nonstop all because you like to be pissed on.”

Scout couldn’t take it any longer, his hand reached under his waistband down to his cock. It felt unbelievably good to finally give it attention, yet only a minuscule amount of pressure had been taken off. 

“Did you spend your nights wondering what was wrong with you, why a little punk like you could possible want to be made a mess of. Wonderin’ why it makes you so hard- fuck, if I’d known you sucked dick this good I would’ve thrown a jar at you sooner,” Sniper rumbled.

At this point Scout didn’t need the encouragement, he had the desire that had been building up ever since they made the deal, and his own leaking desperation to motivate him. He worked overtime, bobbing on Sniper’s cock, wanting nothing more than to make him cum. But he was pulled off, completely off that cock and he whined. Sniper sat back, panting, his hand still gripping Scout’s short hair.

“Slowly, just like before,” he breathed out.

“But-” Scout went to protest.

“Like before,” Sniper repeated with more bite.

Scout frowned but nodded, opening his mouth to the wet cock and taking in just the head. He closed his eyes and tried to resist his instinct to do more. Instead, he gently rubbed his tongue over Sniper’s slit, tasting precum.

The hand in his hair didn’t move, but it tightened. Sniper keened, “Yes, just like that.”

Scout did it just as before, long gradually flicks of his tongue that transitioned into short quick ones that got Sniper jerking his hips and gasping. They both knew how close he was, Sniper’s fingers pulled even harder at Scout’s hair, and Scout feeling the short spasms shaking through the man’s thighs and hips. The tingling sensation that Sniper always wished would stay longer was snaking up his legs, little ticks going off in the soles of his feet and behind his knees. His cock was overstimulated, aching for release, for that perfect moment to go off. Scout’s teasing nearly put him at the end of his rope, but he waited, controlled himself until the runner moved his tongue and lips just a fraction faster. Then he was leaning into Scout, emptying all he had into the boy’s mouth for as long as he could stand the warmth and wetness.

Another barrage of gunfire rang out, startling Scout but this time he wasn’t allowed to pull off. Sniper held his head in place while he haphazardly let loose bullet after bullet from his SMG, shouting, “Fuck you, you fucking prick!”

Scout was sprayed with blood before Sniper allowed a margin of freedom and he was able to turn his head enough to see his Spy’s body collapse to the floor. 

“Bloody fucking Spy, not gonna ruin my afterglow,” Sniper muttered, dropping his gun on the crate beside him. “Come on, get every last bit out.”

It took Scout a second to recognize the command, but as soon as Sniper thrust against his mouth again, he put his tongue back into action, working the rest of his release out. Too quickly did that mouth become unbearable, and the tongue lapping at him torture. Sniper loved a long tease, but the second it was over he couldn't bear how sensitive he was. 

“S’enough,” Sniper mewled, quickly pulling his cock away, leaving a smear of cum on Scout’s cheek. He sat back against the wooden wall, mindful of his position in regards to the enemies below. “Grab a smoke off your friend, would ya.”

Scout dumbly licked at the smear on his cheek and was met with the taste of blood as well as cum. He looked between the enemy Sniper and his Spy, fear and shame settling into the pit of his stomach as he realized that once again Spy had caught him in a compromising position. Sniper kicked at his thigh to get him moving, and he thoughtlessly rifled through his dead team mate’s suit to find cigarettes.

Once Sniper was contentedly leaning back and puffing away, cock still out, he tapped his boot against Scout’s bulging crotch. “Want me to piss on you again?”

With no real feeling one way or the other Scout shook his head and murmured, “Nah.”

“Well then,” Sniper inhaled deeply and tapped the ash off, the whole motion showing how sated he was. Then he left the cigarette hanging off his lips and reached for his SMG again, he held the barrel to Scout’s mouth and said with a smile, “You can suck it now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ten months later I make good on my promise.


End file.
